


Can't stand you, can't stand myself more

by Misswits14



Category: My Own Stories - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Real Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:45:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misswits14/pseuds/Misswits14
Summary: This stories will be about me, I want to put my life down somewhere, and I doubt that others will find it so easily here. We'll find out soon I guess.





	Can't stand you, can't stand myself more

**Author's Note:**

> Rape, abuse, manipulation, an much, much more will be in here, please be warned that this is not fiction.

I don't remember a lot of when I was little, but of course there are the memories that pop out like a sore thumb. I was three when my he touched me like that. I didn't understand, I didn't like it, I didn't want it. He was my dad, or I thought he was. I never had anything in common with him, so I figured it out before my mom told me when I was 12. But that's another part of the story for another chapter. He, like many adults, told me that I didn’t know what I wanted, that I was too young to understand whilst he did these things. He belittled me an disrespected women, he and I fought so often, and so much hate was there for him. I searched up rape victims, I tried to reach out online, but I was scared to actually get help. He was the only one making money in the house, my mom was on disability, and made little to nothing for the bills. She was sick all the time, going to hospitals all the time, and always stayed in bed when she was home, giving him plenty of time to do whatever he wanted to me. Our fights affected my mom, to the point where she begged me to behave, and always took his side when fights came up. She’d hit me and would be so angry when I caused problems, making it so easy for her to ignore what was happening. I became so hateful, I was angry at school, and through things around, and hit and yelled, and so desperately wanted attention. I was labeled as a problem child and got stuck in a problem group to “help” my violence. I learned there to shut my mouth, people won’t listen. People are too filled with their own problems to handle yours. I still hated everyone and everything, but I did it silently, and soon enough my anger was bottled so much that i took it out on my sister. My poor little sister that was so stupid and reckless. I soon dedicated my life on protecting her, I was the only one allowed to hurt her, bully her, hate her. I manipulated everyone and everything I could for everyone to hate her, to leave her alone, to not touch her. I blamed her for so much, but I was the only “adult” in her life. He never really taught her anything and always said that she was the good girl, and that made me scared that he would touch her, I became so protective. I hated her and loved her so much. She was the only thing that kept me together. I spent so much time with her that she soon caught on what was happening with me. She knew I was being raped by him. She asked my why I didn’t go to mom, and I told her that I didn’t trust mom, that mom has hit me, begged me to behave for him, to do whatever he wanted. I was scared of both of them. The rape went on, but my sister was there to save me from some of the rape. She stayed with me when it got too hard to live, and I hated myself for it. She was too young, she was the baby sister and didn’t deserve to be in this mess, my mess. Mom was finally tired of his shit, and everytime she cried because of him, I hated her more and more. Finally she decided to leave him, but she didn’t have enough balls to tell him that. She was moving us without him knowing. I guess my sister got tired of her bullshit and told her what was happening. But it wasn’t about me… She told mom that she got raped. My little sister told her that when she was little, still in diapers, that she was molested. On that day, I was making up a school day and had gone to saturday school, and when I got back home he was gone, but his stuff was still there. I walked into the room and said hi, to see mom crying. She told me what my sister said, and I told her that I was raped… since the age of twelve. I lied to her. I lied to everyone. Only my sister knew the bullshit I pulled. I told her I did it because mom was so worried about me simply being raped, that she would blame herself to the day she died that it had gone so far without her knowing. In that moment, I learned, through all the shit my mom had put me through, I still loved her. I loved her and hated her all at the same time. Mom told everyone she knew, the neighbors? She told. His family? She told. The little family that she had? She told. I guess she liked to tell her failures to everyone, maybe for attention, maybe for pity? I don’t know, but I hated her for it, that she didn’t see it as a failure of parenting as she should have been taking it. In the middle of school, after valentines day, at the age of fifteen, we packed up and left, and that was the time I escaped raped. I was stupid, and so ignorant, and so filled with rage, I still am. I haven’t told a single person the whole story, not my mom, and my sister lived through it, but I never told her about it. I never found anyone worthy enough to tell. I only leave this to people that I doubt this will reach. Good luck, and stayed tuned to the next chapter…. Because this was only a fraction of my fucked up life.


End file.
